Rock wrote:"In my case, I rather fear that would be a case of my eyes being too big for my stomach," Everline says, not bothering to lower her voice. Her eyes flick up and down, looking at Elliana, and she smiles without saying another word.
Elliana smiles back at Everline, and laughs lightly.
At the door, she waves to Dorgio.
""Do be careful, when you are sweeping out ruins or whatever it is you are doing. You can tell me all about it tonight."
And then she's gone, through the terrace door and into the chateau.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Primeiro catches only a few of the latest words exchanged between Everline and Ellianna, but he somehow senses that the subtext is noticeably darker than the "normal" verbal sparring that he has witnessed between other women. "Sink me," he says with some wonderment to Everline after Elianna departs. "You wield words with the lethality and grace of a velvet-gloved assassin, Mademoiselle Vaughn. And I mean that as the highest of compliments, my lady."
He continues to everyone, "Well, now that that's settled... shall those of us going to the abbey gather downstairs in, oh, an hour's time? Petrie, Thom... good fortune to you today!"
"There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are."
--W. Somerset Maugham
As your party winds up the narrow cliffside trail, you see the Abbey standing out against the blue sky, a great mass of tumbled limestone walls and broken arches. The salt breeze whistles through the ruin-- a mournful sound almost like a human voice.
Melmoth, dressed in the same clothes he wore the previous morning, stops as he did before, a bowshot from the ruins.
To no one in particular, he says, ”I’ll wait here.”
Last edited by ewancummins on Mon Feb 13, 2012 12:43 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Thom and Petrie have hiked about Gauntcliff for a few hours, and found nothing sinister; only scenes of quiet beauty, Nature’s work unspoiled by human hands. Wildflowers and berry bushes grow along green streambeds tucked away in the folded earth. Wheat-colored grass clings to the crests and backs of dunes in long tufts, holding back the advance of the sands. Dwarf oaks stand watch over the hills, deep-rooted, bent by the wind into fantastic shapes.
Now, the two explorers have located the first sign of human habitation they have seen since leaving the chateau—the remains of a little village, partially covered by the dunes. Dry-rotted walls sag under the pressure of the piled sand on the windward side; some have collapsed. If thatch once covered the roofs, it has long since been carried away by wind or birds; only bare roof timbers, bleached as driftwood, remain. The village does not appear to have been large, but who knows how many other structures might be concealed beneath the sand?
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
"Et bien, monsieur," Everline says, as she toasts Primeiro with her cup of tea. "Je me vous en remerçi." She then downs the cup in one long swallow, without coming up for air. For a moment, she looks pensively out to sea; then she nods. "No urge to vomit," she says. "I believe I'm ready to go." Her eyes grow cold. "I can but hope that the architect of last night's entertainments will be at the ruins."
At the Old Abbey:
"You do that, my good man," Everline replies to Melmoth. She dismounts, wobbles a little, and holds a hand out to whichever of the other adventurers presents himself first. "So," she asks, "which way to this ominous shadow, gentlemen?"
Welcome to my webcomic, Sarcantasy.
You can read it here:
Melmoth leads the mules away from the ruin and the cliffs, to a small copse of trees in the lee of a nearby scarp.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Before turning to the abbey, Dorgio stubs out his cigarillo and offers a fresh one to Melmoth. "To pass the time," he explains.
Dorgio holds out his hand out to Everline, despite the tension that had briefly mounted between the priest's friend and Eliana back at the Chateau. He was beginning to grow irritated at the constant accusations and insinuations directed at his love interest, but he knew Everline was out of sorts; he could continue turning a blind eye to his friend's attitude considering the circumstances.
"We saw...or rather Benn felt, the presence of a creature in a pit. But I am not knowing if it is there now. If Eustace is correct, it will likely be wherever it is darkest. If it is still here at all," he added, hoping Eustace was wrong about that particular part.
"You said I killed you--haunt me, then!...Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!” -Wuthering Heights
"Did we remember to bring torches?" Everline asks, accepting Dorgio's hand. "We could set one or two of them alight and drop them into the pit, the better to see." She smilingly pats her waist. "If all goes well, we may not even need to go down there to deal with this shade."
Welcome to my webcomic, Sarcantasy.
You can read it here:
"Torches in the pit may work. I tried calling down illumination on my spear, to use it like a torch as we were exploring the pit. But I'm thinking something else may be working better. A coin, illuminated, may work better if we toss it into the pit, and cast fewer sputtering shadows than a torch." The priest shakes his head. "Alain taught me that trick, before he changed into...whatever it was he'd become by the end. Sometimes I wonder what the authorities did with him after he was caught."
"You said I killed you--haunt me, then!...Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!” -Wuthering Heights
"One thing at a time, I suppose." He steps forward, resuming yesterday's routine of tapping down in front of him with his cane before stepping. "The ground is somewhat suspect here, possible pits and deadfalls."
He makes his way to the edge of the pit, looking down inside. "The door we found is down there. We were dangling down into the space when the thing attacked. It's...possible we may need to do something similar to draw it out."
"Of course," Benn mutters, "It would be a damned shame if we ever knew what the hell was actually going on."
Juergin is listening to everyone speak. He picks up a long stick. He does remember yesterday's mishaps and steps forward. As he does he is uttering to himself in a low voice "I wonder if the monster is there yet again today, it should be investigated but safely this time." He turns to Benn. "Let me go first. I will take my time so as not to make any more of de floor fall. Maybe I can mark my passage, this way we all walk at the same place and thus do not have any bad luck like yesterday. A light is very welcome, unt the trick with a coin sounds like a gut idea."
He scratches his head, than snaps his fingers in revelation. "Ja, dat might work!" He removes some coins from a pouch. He looks at everyone with a grin. "Ah, ja, a golden path, eh? Unt since I am the lightest, I wish to go down first by rope if possible." The youth moves very slowly now, and leaves a coin at every place he has stepped that is safe, having poked and then steps tentively and stronger after. He will accept the lighted coin from whomever casts the spell on a coin.
In game terms, Juergin is taking twenty. Yes, twenty. We need to be very careful here and I doubt any of you will disagree with me taking twenty!
Between Benn's careful tapping and Juergin's trail of coins, the party finds a safe path to the pit mouth.
As the boy is getting ready to descend the pit, he notices a narrow rectangular hollow under the stone table, half-hidden by the broken lip of the pit (where Eustace fell through the floor). Juergin sees a metallic gleam from within the small opening.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Thom and Petrie have hiked about Gauntcliff for a few hours, and found nothing sinister; only scenes of quiet beauty, Nature’s work unspoiled by human hands. Wildflowers and berry bushes grow along green streambeds tucked away in the folded earth. Wheat-colored grass clings to the crests and backs of dunes in long tufts, holding back the advance of the sands. Dwarf oaks stand watch over the hills, deep-rooted, bent by the wind into fantastic shapes.
Now, the two explorers have located the first sign of human habitation they have seen since leaving the chateau—the remains of a little village, partially covered by the dunes. Dry-rotted walls sag under the pressure of the piled sand on the windward side; some have collapsed. If thatch once covered the roofs, it has long since been carried away by wind or birds; only bare roof timbers, bleached as driftwood, remain. The village does not appear to have been large, but who knows how many other structures might be concealed beneath the sand?
Lost Settlement
Thom takes his pack off and sets in the sand and pulls out his waterskin and takes a long pull from it. He offers it up for Petrie to take and takes a quick glance around the area. "Well I have no mind to dig through sand." He says looking at the small settlement. "Lets have a look around and see if can't find anything unusual. Signs of disturbance and what have you. After that we can break for a light meal and continue exploring the island. Maybe find a cove that connects to an underground network of caves." He adds, sounding some what disappointed by the settlement itself.
Thom begins to search the settlement looking for anything unusual or recent signs of disturbances.
History prefers legends to men. It prefers nobility to brutality, soaring speeches to quiet deeds. History remembers the battle and forgets the blood. What ever history remembers of me if it remembers me at all, it shall only be the fraction of the truth.
Thom finds some animal prints in the sand, possibly left by a dog or wolf.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
